


Interviews with the Grossmans

by DPPatricks



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Episode Related, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:20:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25020814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DPPatricks/pseuds/DPPatricks
Summary: A missing scene from ‘Gillian.’
Relationships: Ken Hutchinson/David Starsky
Comments: 16
Kudos: 29





	Interviews with the Grossmans

**Author's Note:**

> This piece came from the 6/26/20 Friday Fiction prompt on the Starsky&Hutch Fans&FanFiction FaceBook page. The prompt sentence is underlined, below.

I was tired. Really, really tired. But, when I looked at Hutch, I could see he was way beyond me in that department. His face was drawn, almost haggard, and his red-rimmed eyes were bloodshot. Worst of all, though, his shoulders were slumped. The last time I’d seen that happen was when Jeannie Walton had shown her true colors and refused to stand by him. She’d slithered out of his life like he’d meant nothing to her. 

What is it with these women who don’t see, don’t understand, what a truly good person he is? All they want is the White Knight. Someone who’s on top of things, standing straight, able to cope, deal with shit. Help people. Help _them!_ But they never want to be the one to help _him!_

Who was here, except me, to help him tonight? 

Dobey wasn’t. Huggy wasn’t. But that was okay, because I knew it was me Hutch needed. Gillian was dead, and nobody else knew Hutch well enough to help him get through the loss of her. They hadn’t been in love very long but he’d fallen hard. And finding out about her true profession, while he was crying over her still-warm body, had almost literally taken the stuffing out of him. He was hurting, and I ached for him.

“Go home, Hutch. I’ll take it from here. No need to put yourself through the rest of this.”

He stared at me and I shuddered inside; it was nearly the same Look he’d drilled into Grossman as he climbed the stairs in that theater a few hours ago. I didn’t take it personally. Scary as he is, sometimes, he’s my best friend, and Gillian was right - I love him. Guess I always have and I know I always will. I think the last words she said to me are going to haunt me for the rest of my life, too: “Wouldn’t it be nice to be Hutch…?” So I’m going to make damn sure he knows I’ll always be here for him. 

I fitted my hand firmly around his bicep, bringing him back to the here and now, while the Look disappeared.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I won’t say a word, Starsk. I promise.” He glanced toward where a uniformed officer stood guard at a closed door before softening his expression. “But I need to be in there.”

I squeezed his arm and dropped my hand. “I know.” I turned toward the officer and put just a touch of humor in my voice. “If she gets past us, O’Reilly, drop her in her tracks.”

He didn’t smile. Lonely had been someone just about everybody in the precinct had cared about. “Count on it, Starsky.”

Hutch followed me into the room where the overly-made up, tackily-dressed Ohio transplant was fussing with her ugly necklaces and rings. The blue-white wig was slightly askew but her slathered-on cosmetics were flawless. Hate-filled eyes met mine. “Where’s Al? I want to see my son!”

I strolled to the table and sat down in the chair across from her, knowing Hutch had leaned against the closed door behind us.

“Lonely…” I said, very softly. “Remember him, Olga?” She sniffed her best disdain, not saying a word. “Lonely,” I repeated, “was an independently wealthy man who cleaned toilets as a hobby.” She lifted her chin and looked away. “Your goons probably didn’t mean to kill him, but they did.”

“You have absolutely no proof of that,” she spat.

“Actually, we do.” I waited until she turned back, uncertainty now clouding out a little of the anger. “The two thugs you brought from Cleveland have ratted you out, Olga.”

She curled her painted lip. “They wouldn’t dare.”

“And your dear little boy has told us you sent him to kill Gillian Ingram.” I gave her my best predatory smile. “He’s confessed that you told him to get rid of her.”

“He wouldn’t… You…” she sputtered.

“We’ve got you cold, Mrs. Grossman. You and your darling offspring are both going away for a very long time.” I stood up. “We don’t even need to ask you any questions. All your employees are going to roll on you so fast, your lawyers won’t have time to rack up billable hours.” 

I turned toward the door, then spun back - there was one more thing I needed to say. “My partner’s the best cop, the best person I’ve ever known, Olga, and I think Gillian was a nice lady. They should have had the rest of their lives together but you ended that. So I’m looking you in the face and telling you that you’re going down.”

Before she could think of a response, I ushered my partner out of her vile presence. 

In the hallway, I stopped beside O’Reilly. “Take her to Booking, please, and let her make her phone call.” As he reached for the knob, I added, “But I hope you’ve had your shots, ‘cause I’ll bet she bites!”

Hutch and I walked down the corridor toward another guarded door.

“That was good, Starsk,” Hutch said. “Telling her that her beloved son had already given her up.”

I shrugged. “Thought it might take the wind out of her sails.” 

The uniform at the new door nodded toward where O’Reilly had been standing. “I heard what you told Sean, Starsky. If Grossman comes out this door first, he’s toast.”

I patted his arm. “Good man, Blair. Now, give me and Hutch a minute, okay?”

“Sure thing.” Blair moved out of earshot.

“I said it before, Hutch, and I’ll say it again, you don’t need to do this.”

He almost smiled. “You’ve had your turn. Now give it to me.”

Maybe one of these days I’d learn to say ‘no’ to him but it wouldn’t be tonight. “You’ve earned it, that’s for sure.” I signaled Blair who came back and stood next to the jamb before I opened the door for Hutch.

Al Grossman was handcuffed to the rail that ran across the top of the table. His expression was a mix of stubborn and furious. As soon as he saw Hutch’s blank stare, he lost all his bluster. “Get him away from me!”

I stood with my back to the door as Hutch sauntered to the chair on our side of the table and sat down. Casually, he laced his long fingers on the scarred fake-wood.

The silence lengthened, each passing second increasing Grossman’s obvious discomfort. His cheek began to twitch, distorting his mouth, and he couldn’t seem to control it. Finally, he blurted, “Where’s Mom? If you’ve laid your filthy hands on her I’ll kill you!”

Hutch shook his head slowly, deliberately adding to the tension. “Al, Al, Al…” He placed both his palms flat on the table, fingers spread. I knew he had large hands but, displayed like that, they appeared to cover half the surface and were intimidating as hell.

Grossman began to sweat.

“You should know better than to threaten a police officer.” Hutch let several more leaden moments fill the room. “And you shouldn’t have killed Gillian.” I thought I’d heard every tone of voice in my partner’s arsenal but this one was new. It was Threat and Promise, Disgust and Hatred, all rolled into one. And I could tell that Grossman hadn’t missed any of them. 

“I loved her.” Hutch broke eye contact and stared at his hands. “But you knew that.” After a few breaths, he looked up and nailed Grossman’s uncertain gaze. “That’s probably one of the reasons why you killed her. Can’t have love in your business. Certainly can’t have one of your… girls falling in love with a cop!” 

“You got nothin’!” Grossman snarled. 

“On the contrary.” Hutch’s words now sounded casual, informative. “We have your mother’s confession, and we have those of the hooligans you used to kill Lonely.”

Grossman’s facial muscles went berserk. In another minute, I thought he’d begin frothing at the mouth.

Hutch stood up and straightened to his full height. “Gillian Ingram was a better person than you or your mother could ever hope to be, and I’ll miss her every day for the rest of my life.” Grossman cowered as if he was being physically beaten.

“You, on the other hand,” Hutch continued, perfectly calm, “will spend every day of the rest of _your_ life in a prison cell - hopefully remembering why you’re there.” 

Hutch turned away from the broken man that had been Al Grossman and looked at me. “I just wish to God it felt like an even trade.”

I opened the door and followed him out. In the hallway, I gave Blair the same instructions I’d given O’Reilly. Then I put my arm around Hutch’s shoulders. “We’re going to my place, Hutch. Now. No argument.”

Having probably used up the last of his resolve and mental strength, he walked with me to the stairwell. “I couldn’t give you an argument if I wanted to, buddy.”

“Good.” 

Once we were in the Torino and headed for my apartment, I glanced over at him. His head was against the window but I knew he wasn’t asleep. It might be quite a while before he slept well again and I wasn’t going to let him out of my sight until that time. Wounds like his didn’t heal easily. 

“I gotta tell ya somethin,’ Hutch.”

Clearly reluctantly, he met my eyes. “Okay. Whatever it is, just say it.”

I gave him my most supportive smile before turning back and paying attention to my driving. “I’m more proud of you tonight than I’ve ever been.” I sent him another quick look. “And that’s saying something.”

He didn’t return my smile but his eyes lost some of the devastation they’d carried. “Thanks, Starsk.”

I nodded. “Anytime.”

END


End file.
